I grabbed the wheel to straighten the truck and tried to move Virgil’s leg away from the gas pedal.
Salem reached for the wheel. “Let me take over!”
“Stop! If I let go, we’ll crash!”
Unable to hit the brakes, I turned the wheel to head down another road, nearly tipping the truck over. Virgil bled profusely from somewhere on his head or face, but I couldn’t redirect my focus.
We jumped onto a single-lane dirt road.
Crippled with fear, I managed to take over the gas pedal. “Are they still behind us?”
“Yes.”
I accelerated.
“Slow down!” Salem shouted.
We barreled toward an oncoming car at breakneck speed and miraculously missed it at the last minute by swerving. Honking sounded, then an amplified crash.
Once we got far enough, I stretched my leg and pushed the brake pedal, but it was hard with Virgil and the steering wheel in the way. With the truck still rolling, Salem jumped out and then opened the door on the driver’s side. I scooted across the bench seat while he jumped in and took over. Virgil fell sideways onto my lap, and his hat tumbled to the floor.
“He’s bleeding from the neck.” I quickly removed my light jacket and pressed it to the wound to stanch the blood. “Virgil,wake up, honey! Can you hear me? Oh, Salem, you need to hurry. He’s dying.”
“We’ll head to Milly’s. She has medical equipment.”
Realizing we would never make it to her house in time, I clutched his arm. “No. Take him to Dragonfly’s.”
“Why?”
“Because only one thing can save him now—Vampire blood.”
Chapter 10
Dragonfly Bar & Grill was only a few streets away. Not knowing Atticus’s number, I called the house and frantically begged Melody to warn him we were coming. I prayed he was there, because if not… I didn’t want to think about losing Virgil.
So much blood.On him, on me—smears of it on the door and window. His ashen complexion chilled me to the marrow.
“It’s okay, honey.” I brushed his hair away from his closed eyes. “You’re going to be fine. Isn’t he, Salem? He’s going to pull through this and be doing handstands in no time.”
Salem said nothing as he sped through the parking lot and skidded to a stop in front of the entrance. I gripped the handle above the door.
Relief washed over me at the sight of Atticus. Of all the colors he could have worn today, he’d chosen a white Henley shirt.
In a swift move, Atticus pulled open my door and cupped my cheek. “Are you injured?”
Trembling, I replied, “It’s Virgil—he was shot. We need your help. Oh, please hurry. He’s lost so much blood already.”Swallowing didn’t help my parched throat as I watched Atticus lift Virgil’s eyelids.
When Atticus looked up again, he was a breath away. “We don’t have much time.” He helped me out of the car, then lifted Virgil into his arms with ease.
Salem and I hurried behind him through the restaurant, the kitchen, and into an elevator. Once we reached the bottom, we bustled down a dark hallway. After pressing his thumb on a keypad, Atticus opened a door that connected to a private hallway I’d walked in before.
Once inside his office, he shoved pens and papers off his desk and placed Virgil on top. “How long ago?”
“Seven minutes. Tops,” Salem answered, out of breath.
“He’s barely alive.” When Atticus removed my jacket from Virgil’s neck, blood trickled from a wound. He examined it before turning Virgil onto his side.
Salem cut off Virgil’s shirt and moved his hair out of the way. “No exit wound. He’s lucky it didn’t hit an artery.”
